


So Easy

by GreenBryn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, TW: Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-09
Updated: 2003-11-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenBryn/pseuds/GreenBryn
Summary: Every day it's harder to endure the passage of time, the obstacles of life. It would be so easy to surrender the struggle, to let yourself fall into the abyss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yes, yet another suicide drabble. Blame the little voice in my head.

Every day it's harder to endure the passage of time, the obstacles of life. It would be so easy to surrender the struggle, to let yourself fall into the abyss.

  
People all around, their conversations sharp claws shredding your calm, destroying sanity. Repulsive noise, filling your ears like feces and mud, drawing you deeper into the quicksand as you choke on the shallow water. No relief, no escape. It would be so easy to open your mouth and just scream and scream. Blood curdling. Glass shattering. Banshee shriek silencing everything, demanding full attention, invoking terror. Scream until they lock you away and mute you forever.

It gets dark so early now. The headlights in the opposite lane blinding as they speed past. It would be so easy on the drive home, to close eyes red and swollen from crying, to let hands slide off the wheel and fold in your lap, a mockery of the pose Mum and Da forced you to freeze into every Sunday morning for hours. But no hymns fill your ears and no prayers rattle in your mind as you sit quietly and wait for the impact.

It's amazing, the destructive qualities of such fine thinly shaped metal. The elegant mother-of-pearl handled knife shines in its deep red velvet box. It would be so easy to drag the edge against pale flesh, blade parting skin, as if cutting a raspberry-filled doughnut in half - it's impossible not to get the sticky red fluid everywhere. Tingling pinpricks of pain, the plague of locusts nipping at the wound. Eyelids drift closed as the liquid seeps from the gash, flowing onto the floor like the Nile in the Bible. Sounds dim, heartbeat fades, tears fall, silence reigns.

Sunny day. Birds are chirping, the clouds resemble elementary crayon drawings, cliches abound. Cars fly down stretches of four-lane street, driven by hormonal teenagers and adults getting off work early for the weekend, their speed held in check only by hanging lanterns and the threatening ghostly specters of flashing blue and red. City buses are loaded to capacity, everyone wants to be somewhere. Pause at the corner as the light turns green, gas petals slammed and engines roar. Slight break in the flow of traffic and it would be so easy to take five quick steps, just enough to dart in the path of oncoming and feel the slam-crunch.

It would be so easy. 


End file.
